


Like A Married Couple

by AKnightOfAGoodKing



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Jealousy, M/M, Partnership, Protectiveness, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 10:53:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20526818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AKnightOfAGoodKing/pseuds/AKnightOfAGoodKing
Summary: It was the small things that made many say they were married.[DO NOT REPOST/REUSE MY WORK(S) WITHOUT MY ACKNOWLEDGEMENT AND PERMISSION]





	Like A Married Couple

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something I wrote a long time ago but didn't upload. Enjoy.

To the untrained eyes, or the unfamiliar, the relationship between the top two UNCLE agents, Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin, would be considered the closest of friends, maybe even brothers. However, fellow agents would say that it only described a layer of their partnership. The most popular way to describe the two was 'married couple,' mostly for the female members of Section Two. It was the small things that made many say they were married.

There wasn't a thing either of them would wouldn't do if the other asked for it. It was odd, at first, when the two were newly partnered, but then again, they were no different from newlyweds then, carefully getting along with each other until they were trusting each other without doubt. 

To some, the development was a surprise because Napoleon Solo was a ladies' man and almost all the female members of UNCLE sighed in defeat once they realized that he was never going to look at them like how he looked at Illya. To some, it was amusing, especially to Waverly who greatly approved as it showed that an American and a Russian can be so close in this day and age. To some, it greatly disgusted them to see two men together in a romantic way, but they all knew to steer clear of them. They were not top agents for nothing. But, of course, everyone reacts to things differently.

That being said, neither Napoleon nor Illya knew of what many of their colleagues considered their relationship to a full extent. They only heard snippets, but every time they tried to get close to conversations, everyone else would shut down and find a way to leave the room with small smiles on their faces. It was only when both Napoleon and Illya were gone from the UNCLE New York office that people start to gossip, sharing the instances of their favorite 'married couple' being a 'married couple'.

Ever since Illya had arrived to America from England, he had very few people that were close to him, thus making his partner the closest person by default and choice. So it was only with Napoleon that the usually stoic Russian would lower his guard and show emotion on his face. Nancy Hoffman, one of the leading botanists of UNCLE, was passing by when she saw a treasured moment between the two.

"Come now, Illya," Napoleon said as they walked through the hallway, trying to get his partner to look at him only to fail. Illya was determinedly looking forward, his lips pursed as he glared at the direction they were heading. What has Napoleon done? "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to forget our dinner plans yesterday. I was working on the reports. I would've been at your place hours ahead of time if Waverly didn't order me to finish all of them before I headed out."

"So you're saying this is all Waverly's fault?" Illya said, tone a little tense. He stopped, looking at Napoleon unexpectedly with annoyance.

Napoleon nervously chuckled. "Well, not really, but we could always have dinner together. Let's have dinner tonight. My treat."

Illya stood still, looking at Napoleon for a moment before huffing as he turned away, walking again. Surprised, Napoleon followed his lead. "I presume that you also forgot what yesterday was, Napoleon."

Frustrated by his Russian's lack of clear communication, Napoleon pushed Illya carefully against the wall, trapping the shorter man between his arms. "Illya, please tell me why you're angry with me,” he begged, “and I swear I will make it up to you any way you want. If you want to go to the most expensive restaurant in the world, I will take you there right now. If you want me to bleed for you, I will stab myself with the pen in my pocket. So please, Illya, tell me what I did wrong. I only wish to make you happy, my friend.”

Hearing the extent of Napoleon's guilt and seeing the look of pleading in his partner’s eyes, Illya couldn't bring himself to be as angry anymore but feeling bad for being angry in the first place. Instead, he lowered his arms, and his manners became a timid. "Yesterday was our fifth anniversary as partners," the Russian confessed, his voice lower, "and I wanted to celebrate it with you. You are my friend, Napoleon, my first friend since I transferred here, and I am happy we have been together for so long." Illya turned his eyes to the floor, feeling embarrassed to tell the truth.

Then, Napoleon laughed, pulling the Russian in for a tight hug in relief. "I have completely forgotten about that!" he said, pulling away but his hands remained on Illya's shoulders. The American was smiling happily. "Illya, it has been an honor serving with you, and let me tell you that I am happy too, to be your friend and your partner. Forgive me, tovarish, for not remembering such an important date. Let me make you dinner."

Together, they walked out of the UNCLE building, Illya with a happier expression and Napoleon with an arm leading him out.

In their conversation, neither even noticed Hoffman watching nearby, a giggled being held back in her throat. There was a pleasant blush on her as she quickly went off to go tell someone what she just saw.

Sometimes, it was fellow spies that were witnesses of the couple, such as April Dancer and Mark Slate barely back from their assignment in Japan when they entered the UNCLE headquarters to be the witness of Napoleon's small scolding from Illya.

"I am very angry at you, Napoleon," Illya said, tone intensely collected. "You weren't supposed to call me that during our assignments."

"It was just a slip of the tongue, Illya," Napoleon defended himself. "It was a simple mistake."

Illya rolled his eyes. "It would've been simple if you didn't happen to say it in front of him."

"What's going on here?" Mark asked, interrupting their previously private conversation. But then again, arguing in the middle of UNCLE headquarters was not the least private.

"Oh, hello, Mark, April," Napoleon greeted with a smile. "Illya and I are just having a discussion."

"It must be a pretty heated one," April commented, looking at Illya who was still glaring at Napoleon. "What did Napoleon do, Illya?"

"He called me 'Illyusha' in front of our target, who was also Russian," Illya explained, crossing his arms in a fit. "Our target laughed at me and started taunting me with it. This is your fault, Napoleon. I have never been so humiliated in my life. I don't even know why you like calling me that pet name. Pet names are for women and little children, and you can see I am neither."

Mark snickered. "Illyusha," he repeated, getting a hit on the arm by April and a glare from Napoleon. Illya was not happy either. 

"Now, now, Illya," Napoleon said, turning back to his Russian as he placed his hands around Illya's arms. His smile was bright and joyfully. "I promise if our target is ever Russian again, I won't even say your name, and I will make sure to never call you that again if it's not in my apartment or yours."

"I'm not sure if I am willing to forgive you this time, Napoleon Solo," Illya grumbled, turning his head away.

April smiled as Napoleon's charming smile began to falter. "It's alright, Illya," she said, deciding to help a fellow spy. She placed a soft kiss on Illya's check, uncrossing his arms at the same time. "Like Napoleon said, it was a simple mistake. At least it wasn't very important information, right? Was your mission not successful?"

"It went well, actually," Illya answered, looking at her with a small smile.

"See? Everything went well in the end. Let it be okay this time, Illya. This is his first warning. Next time he accidentally call you that, call him something just as embarrassing."

Illya raised an eyebrow, smirking. "You're quite the devious one, Miss April," the Russian said, turning to Napoleon who glad of how the situation was turning but also worried about what his partner would call him.

But Napoleon nodded, deciding it was better to defuse his Russian's anger. "Whatever you want, Illya," he agreed wholeheartedly, smiling. "I will have no qualms over it.

Illya happily nodded, turning around and walking into the hallways to his lab. "You're lucky this time, Napoleon," he said.

Napoleon sighed, and he gave April a thankful kiss before running after his Russian. "I owe you one, April Dancer," he said as he left.

April waved as the two left, and she couldn't help her big smile. "Well done, April," Mark remarked with a chuckle. "You managed to get Napoleon's little wife to forgive him."

She shushed her English partner with another hit to the arm. "Don't let him hear that," April said, going to her desk to write the report. "Remember, Illya's neither a woman or little."

Usually, the rare instances of the couple were witnessed by members of New York UNCLE headquarters. However, there had been times in which other members of other UNCLE branches had been the witness, and many were surprised to say the least, such as the Los Angeles UNCLE duo, Maria Santos and Eric Yue.

"Mr. Waverly tells me that you two are here because you tracked a lead all the way from Los Angeles to New York," Napoleon said, sitting on the edge of a table in a private room. "Just who are you tracking and how can we help you?"

"Mr. Waverly is correct," Erick said, nodding. "We have been tracking a high position THRUSH member by the name of Helena Borovsky. She has been dealing in illegal weapon smuggling in South America, Africa and Asia. We caught scent of her when she had come to the U.S. to start trading in North America as well."

"We almost had her back home," Maria added, "but she managed to elude us last minute and head here in order to run back to France. If she leaves the country, we won't have sight of her for the next few years, and we don't know what she will do. That's why we ask of you, Mister Solo, to help us locate where she is hiding. We will accept any help you are willing to give you."

"We'll help," Napoleon said, nodding. "Why don't you, Miss Santos and Mister Yue, rest up for a bit? I'll get some people started on locating general area where she might hide and I'll alert you the first thing I hear."

"Thank you so much, Mister Solo," both Maria and Eric said.

Then the door opened, and a blond Russian walked in, looking over some files as he sat on a chair at the table. "You haven't met my partner," Napoleon said, gesturing to Illya. "Generally, he doesn't come in and ignore the people in the room. He's really nice."

"I can hear you, Napoleon," Illya said, taking the time to look at Napoleon. Then he faced the Los Angeles pair. "Nice to meet you. I am Illya Kuryakin. I'm reading your file on your target."

"Hello, Mister Kuryakin," Eric replied while Maria nodded.

"Oh, yes, we were just talking about her. Illya, would you please take these two fine agents to go and rest. I need to start on aiding their case."

"Already done," Illya said curtly.

"Excuse me?"

"I already ask Communications to listen carefully for any mentions of Helena Borovsky, illegal weapon smuggling, and air flights to France."

"What if Miss Borovsky is already out of the country?"

"Not possible. I checked all the air flights of the whole state, and there was not a single ticket bought or in the name and/or description of Helena Borovsky. I have asked Miss Keller to search the whole country for flight records in the last twenty-four hours."

"And did you get any results?"

"Yes, I did. One of our people caught sight of a tall, Jewish women with long blonde hair, wearing an expensive green coat on, which matches the description of our target. She was spotted on Central Square. She's most likely to be staying with her friends here in New York."

Napoleon stayed silent for a moment, nodding in approval. "You're a god send, my friend," he said, getting up as he placed a gentle hand against Illya's face. "I could kiss you."

In a rare moment, the Russian decided to reply with humor, smiling mischievously. "Not now, Napoleon," he replied simply. "There are people here."

Napoleon chuckled, gesturing the onlookers to follow him. "Let's go, Miss Maria, Mister Yue. We have a smuggler to catch."

"Thank you, Mister Kuryakin," Maria said, shaking Illya's hands.

Illya responded with a polite nod. "I'll treat you to lunch when I get back, Illya," Napoleon said.

As the three walked out of the conference room and leaving the Russian behind, Eric leaned slightly towards his partner to whisper, "Do you think Mister Solo and Mister Kuryakin are together?"

Maria shrugged, not knowing the answer too. "They're good together," she commented.

Three hours later, one Helena Borovsky was successful captured, and Napoleon had invited Maria and Eric to lunch with him and Illya. In the end, Eric's question lingered in both the Los Angeles duo's minds.

As their fellow spies thought them as a married couple, UNCLE spies and THRUSH spies, such as Jonathan O'Connor, who managed to catch both the Russian and the American in Washington.

"Napoleon, you know this is the thirty-seventh time just this year," Illya said in monotone, "that a woman you couldn't keep you eyes off of got the better of you. This is the fifteenth time that I got caught with you. What do you have to say about that?"

"At least it's less than last year," Napoleon commented. He was trying to find a way to get rid of the rope tied around his wrist. Illya was tied to his left, looking around the room for an escape route. "Besides, I couldn't say no to such a beautiful woman."

"And that's because you can only say," Illya growled.

O'Connor cleared his throat loudly to get their attention. It was like he wasn't even there, and they may have hurt his ego a bit. "I see that you two are fighting," he said, grinning. "What did Solo do, Mister Kuryakin?"

"Got tied up with another girl again, that's what," Illya answered, rolling his eyes. "It was obvious she was a THRUSH agent."

"You can't blame me, Illya," Napoleon said in good nature. "Regina is a beautiful woman. Her lovely eyes are hard to get away from."

"That's what you said about that French woman in England, and you remember what happened to us. I'll give you a hint: We ended up in the same situation."

"It was for the mission, remember? I _ had _ to take her bait, and because of it, we were successful once again in hindering THRUSH operatives."

"Oh, of course, Napoleon, it was for the mission," Illya sarcastically agreed, nodding his head. "And that woman you were with last night?"

That stopped both Napoleon and O'Conner. "How did you know about that?" the American asked incredulously.

Illya scoffed, looking at his partner like he was an idiot. "Napoleon," Illya said slowly, "we have been sharing a bed this entire mission. When you came back last night after going off to 'see to some other business', I woke up, and when you went to bed, right next to me, I could smell her vanilla perfume still on you. I was up for an hour trying to ignore the smell."

Napoleon had the decency to look guilty. "That's why you were grumpy this morning before we left," he said. "Sorry about that, my friend."

"I bet it was that brunette at the bar who was with her friend, a redhead."

Napoleon grinned. "Nice to know that you know me so well, Illya."

"Should've gone with the redhead."

"What?" both Napoleon and O'Connor asked at the same time.

"I said," Illya said louder, "that if you were going to leave me, you should've gone for the redhead. She was much more attractive than her friend."

Napoleon had the audacity to look offended. O'Conner, on the other hand, held up a hand in disbelief. "Wait, so you're more upset that Solo picked the wrong girl than the fact he when off with someone else?" the THRUST agent asked, confused.

"Yes," Illya deadpanned, looking serious. "He does this all the time, but it's just irritating when he brings something of them back with him. He attempts to cover it up, but I know."

"You never told me about this, Illya," Napoleon protested. "If you did, I would've kept my hands off during our assignments."

"You would try, moi droog, but your libido is something you cannot control well."

"You make it sound like I am a sex fiend."

"You are."

O'Connor sighed as he listened to the pair bicker, thinking that this was marriage counseling rather than an interrogation. He was not doing his job well. "Mister Solo," the THRUSH agent said, in an attempt to clear the air between the two, "I think that maybe you should be paying attention to your missions when you are on your assignments. I don't believe that your partner would mind your escapades if it was not within his sights and not during assignments so that he wouldn't know about it and not have to care about your 'business.' Having affairs, even if your partner is okay with it, should be a well kept secret. What you did last night was like shoving your ‘business’ in his face."

"Thank you," Illya said, smirking knowingly at Napoleon, who frowned.

"You're not that innocent either, Mister Kuryakin," O'Connor said, making Illya's smirk drop. Napoleon looked happier. "It's your duty as Mister Solo's partner to keep him on track. Do whatever you have to if you don't want him running off with random women, hit him, drug him, tie him to a chair. There are so many things you can do. Yell at him, even. My wife gives me the silent treatment when I anger her. Do that. Mister Solo obviously would not be happy with it and would beg on his hands and knees for your forgiveness. I have done that several times."

"Hey," Napoleon said, ego a little hurt. "I would not get on my hands and knees just because Illya refuses to speak to me."

"Duly noted," Illya said, ignoring his partner. There was a bit of confusion on his face, though. "Why is it that you're giving us advice, Mister O'Conner? Are we not enemies?"

O'Connor nodded. "We are," he agreed, "but we doesn't seem like we are that much different from each other. I have had friends who were in the same positions as you two, the cheating husband and the jealous wife. I've been told that you were very close, but I didn't think that two were like this. I'm surprised that you are still together. I would've thought that you would have left Mister Solo a long time ago, Mister Kuryakin."

There was a silence. "I'm a cheating husband?" Napoleon suddenly asked confused.

"Did you just refer to me as a jealous _ wife_?" Illya asked, standing up with his hands no longer tied behind his back. Before O'Conner could react, the Russian knocked him out with a hard jab to the neck.

In the rare, rare instances, they weren't even on duty when the couple was a couple, mostly because they spent a lot of time together even before and after work.

"Hi, I'm Aaron," said the stranger as he came sat on the seat next to Illya at the bar. It was a Friday night, and the city was alive by eight in the evening. The stranger was an attractive man with a confident smile. He positioned his body closely to the blond that caught his eyes from the side of the room. "What's a looker like you doing alone? You look like you want some company?"

"I am not alone," Illya replied, taking a sip of his drink. "My friend just went to freshen up, so I already have company. I wouldn't think that a man would openly hit on another man without knowing his sexual orientation."

The stranger smirked, finding Illya's accent to be cute. He placed a hand on Illya's leg, caressing it. Illya smacked the hand away. "Don't be like that. Why don't you join me and my friends? You can bring your friend too. The more the merrier."

"No."

Angered and insulted, the stranger left his seat, heading back to his friends. Then he saw an unattended drink and grabbed it, heading back to the bar. When he got close enough, he was going to dump the liquid contents on the blond's head, but a firm hand at his wrist stopped him before he ever lifted his hand. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," muttered the blond's companion. The well dressed man took the drink away from the stranger, dragging him off somewhere where the blond couldn't see.

Napoleon pushed the stranger against a corner of the bar, smiling charmingly. "You're lucky that I stopped you," he said, holding onto the stranger firmly. "What were you thinking?" His tone was calm but clipped, like he was trying to control himself.

"He refused to come and have fun with me and my friends," the stranger answered in an irritated tone. "I just wanted to send him home with a drink."

Napoleon nodded, pretending to agree with the stranger. He dropped the stranger from his grip. "I see," he said, taking a drink from a passing waitress. He took a sip. "Well, let me tell you this and hope I will only tell you this once: keep your hands off of him. If you ever get near him again, I will break all your bones. If you ever try to hurt him again, I can and I will make you disappear off the face of this planet. Do you get me?"

As he spoke, there was a burning fire behind Napoleon's eyes that became more intense with each word, and that was enough to frighten the stranger, who nodded frantically. Napoleon smiled, dumping his drink over the stranger before pushing him away. Without looking back, the American headed towards his Russian, who was still waiting at the bar.

"He wouldn't even be able to get near me," Illya said when his friend sat by him. "I could have taken care of him myself."

Napoleon smiled, placing an arm over Illya's shoulders. "I don't doubt that, Illyusha," he replied, taking to play with the blond's hair, "but I couldn't stand around while someone was after you. I would be disappointed in myself and say I'm not capable to be your partner or worthy enough. It was just a small thing to keep my ego happy, and it lets me know that the matter was taken care of, not that I don't trust you."

Illya chuckled. "Whatever makes you happy, Napoleon," he said. "Thank you."

-

Napoleon was literally glaring at the suave French who had the audacity to get into his partner's space so comfortably and easily. Illya seemed to have lowered his guard a tiny bit, Napoleon knew. It was a month long assignment, but everything went well in the end for the most part. 

"Thank you again, Napoleon," said Agent Ayala David, whom Napoleon and Illya were greatly glad to work with the last month. "You and Illya were the greatest help. Please, let me take the both of you out to dinner before you leave in the morning."

Napoleon smiled. "You have thanked me enough, Ayala," he said warmly. "I'll take you up on your offer then. Let me go ask Illya. I wouldn't want him staying inside a lab all day instead of spending a night in a beautiful city with a beautiful woman."

Ayala chuckled, and the two headed towards the lab. On the way there, several women came up to Napoleon and gave him light kisses on the cheek and a few gave him a slip of paper. He regarded all of them with kiss back and a thank you

At the lab, they were greeted by one of the researchers, Doctor Demetrius Hallas. "Miss David," he said in a serious tone, "please take Mister Deforest out of the lab. He has been in there for the last hour. His playful flirting is distracting to everyone else, but Mister Kuryakin seems to be doing fine humoring him."

Ayala gave the researcher a guilty smile. "At once, Doctor Hallas," she said. Hallas nodded once before going back to what he was doing before.

"I take that this is a habit of Jean," Napoleon commented, interested to find out just now.

She gave him a small smile, nodding. "Jean is always focused when we are doing our assignments," she explained, "doing only what is necessary and rarely do anything else, especially if it's with people not involved. His way of coming down from his serious mindset is mingling with people. Sometimes, he forgets that there are others around him. I should tell you, Napoleon, that he finds Illya to be very attractive. Jean usually goes to those he likes first."

Napoleon took a minute to think. "I wonder how Illya's doing," he said.

Less than a few yards ago, Illya was reading over some old research papers, and at the same time, he was conversing with Agent Jean Deblanc about simple things. "Have I told you that you are very attractive, Illya?" Jean asked, leaning against the wall with a grin. "You remind me of Dorian Gray with your blond hair and youthful beauty."

Illya raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lips twitching a bit. He knew that he was attractive to many people because of what Jean just mentioned, but he had never been compared to a creation of Oscar Wilde. It was a first. "That's kind of you to say, Jean," Illya said. "Nobody has ever called me that before."

Jean smiled, stepping close to Illya to be less than an arm's length away from the Russian. Smoothly, he wrapped an arm around Illya's waist and lifted his free hand to caress a stray lock of blond hair behind Illya's ear. "You are simply beautiful," he said with a poet's tone. "You should come back here in winter when there are no flowers to look at. I would take the sight of you over roses and lilies."

Illya couldn't help but chuckle, finding Jean's words to be cliche. "Would you take the sight of me over the sight of Miss David as well?"

Jean chuckled in response as well. "A pity because I would like you both, but no, I rather take the sight of Alaya over you, Mister Gray. It will always be Ayala."

He didn't know the specific reasons why he liked Jean, but Illya knew that this was just one of why the Russian like the French. Jean Deforest was a very romantic man, a heritage of his country, and he spoke like he was always spouting love poems. He was also very much in love with his partner, the beautiful and lovely Ayala David. He always said her name like it was the most wonderful thing in the world, next to Ayala herself, which was a well kept secret. It was obvious how much he adored his lovely lady partner, but Jean had confided in Illya of his troubles, justifying with "telling a beautiful intellectual will expand my life by a decade. That combination is rarely to your degree, Mister Kuryakin."

In a way, Jean reminded Illya of Napoleon, a master of words and tone, a classic romantic. At times, his American partner would quote or reference books, using them to explain certain things that he did and gave him escape when he needed it. The thought of his American made Illya kinder and gentler.

Suddenly, Illya found himself snatched out of Jean's hold, back against a warm chest and an arm around his waist and the other over his chest. "I see that you two are very friendly with each other, Illyusha," Napoleon said, smirking.

Illya rolled his eyes, standing up properly but not pushing Napoleon away. That smirk was the equivalent to Napoleon pouting. "We were just talking, Napoleon," he said, looking to Jean who seemed surprised at the loss of the Russian in his arm.

"Oh, hello, Napoleon," Jean said, smiling. Ayala was by his side. "Hello, Ayala."

Ayala smiled at her partner. "Doctor Hallas is complaining about you again, Jean," she said in a light scolding. “Why is it that you always flirt in the lab? People have work to do.”

“It’s because the people here are both smart and beautiful, such as Illya here.”

Napoleon smiled, pulling his partner away from the Frenchman by the hand. "We are very lucky to have such lovely partners," he said lightly, and he looked at Illya, playfully pressing a kiss on the blond's knuckle "What do you think, tovarich?"

The Russian huffed, but he didn't pull away, while Jean laughed, holding out a hand for his partner. 

"Shall we leave before Doctor Hallas invents a machine to throw us out of his lab?" he joked. 

Ayala joined in his laughter, nodding as she accepted the gesture. 

It wasn’t to say that Waverly didn’t expect Illya show up at his office. He just expected Number Two of Section Two to show up in three days, which was how long the UNCLE medical doctor said the Russian should rest before coming back to work again. Their last assignment went well for the most, except the escaping the island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Illya and Napoleon had to fight their way to a THRUSH helicopter, and both barely made it out alive. Three days may have been too short of a resting period. 

“Mister Kuryakin,” Waverly said when he looked around, hearing his door open. He frowned, seeing that the Russian messily dressed in casual clothing. It was like he just stole some clothing and snuck out of the medical wing. Waverly guessed he wasn’t that far off. “What are you doing here? You don’t need to give me your report for another three days. Did something happen?”

“I need to find Napoleon,” Illya answered, patting his messy hair down. Waverly could see the hidden damage the medical report written down: three broken ribs, a simple fracture of the arm and bruising on the left leg. The latter would give him a limp for a week or so. 

“Mister Solo has not been here since he gave me his report an hour ago. He seemed almost frustrated. Do you know anything about it, Mister Kuryakin?”

“Uhm, well, he’s angry at me for not telling him about my injuries as we were getting to the helicopter,” Illya explained, instinctively answering a question given by his superior. “I upset him.”

“I understand, but since you _ are _ injured, Mister Kuryakin, shouldn’t you be resting on a hospital bed?”

“I need to find Napoleon first, Mister Waverly. I want to apologize before the day is done. I don’t want him to stay mad at me long.”

Waverly shook his head. “No matter. You are to return to your hospital bed at once. If I see Mister Solo anytime soon, however, I’ll tell him to go see you.”

Illya frowned, disappointed that he had to go back, but orders were orders. He did not break them, unless necessary. “Thank you, Mister Waverly,” he said before he turned around, limping. 

The door slid opened, and Napoleon walked in, concerned in his eyes and a frown on his face. “Illya!” he almost yelled, unhappy. Illya may had cringed at his tone. “What are you doing here when you should be in the medical wing? The nurses said you snuck out!”

“I was looking for you,” Illya answered, looking a little guilty. He made Napoleon angrier. “I wanted to apologize for making you angry.” 

Napoleon sighed. “Apologies to me can wait. You need to get back and rest. Really, I never met anyone as foolish as you, Illyusha.”

“I am not foolish, Napoleon.”

Napoleon looked at Illya, narrowing in his eyes on the Russian. “Foolish enough to not tell me that you were hurt. We didn’t stop running from THRUSH for an hour before we got on that helicopter, and we were _ lucky _ to find it. And when we did get on and were flying, I find out then that your arm was fractured. Then when we arrived here, I find out your ribs and legs were injured too. I didn’t even notice.”

“I have dealt with worse.”

“Yes, I know, Illya, but do you know how I felt when I found out you were hurt so badly?”

Illya shook his head. 

“Frightened,” Napoleon said, tone softer now. “I felt frightened because I kept thinking what would happen if your injuries got the best of you for one moment when we were running away? I could have lost you, Illya, and that frightens me more than anything in the world. I was in a bad mood, and I left so I could calm down. I’m not really angry at you, Illya.”

Illya was speechless, and so was Waverly, though the older man had not been a part of this conversation. Waverly was speechless to know that Napoleon cared this much, seeing that the charming man had flings and affairs with many women. 

“I’m sorry, Napoleon,” Illya said, even though he needn’t say it. “I won’t do it again. I don’t mean to frighten you.”

Napoleon sighed softly and gave his partner a gentle smile. “I suppose I can forgive you this time,” he said. “Just keep that promise. Now we must get you back to the medical wing. The nurses and the doctor are worried.”

Illya frowned, looking like a pouting child if he had crossed his arms and puffed up his cheeks. “But I don’t want to go back,” he argued, shaking his head. “It’s boring there, and the nurses won’t leave me alone. Besides, I’m better now.”

“Absolutely not,” Napoleon said, tapping the Russian by the chin. His tone was patient with a growing smirk on his face as an idea popped in his head. “If you refuse to go, I’ll just have to take you there myself.”

The Russian raised his eyebrow in question, but Alexander nearly chuckled loudly. Before Illya could say another thing, Napoleon lowered himself down and quickly picked up his partner. Illya jumped in reflex, but knowing that it was his partner touching him, his body naturally relaxed. Suddenly, Illya found himself in both of Napoleon’s arms while his were wrapped around the American’s shoulders. 

“What are you doing?” Illya asked, embarrassed. “Put me down, Napoleon.”

Napoleon chuckled but didn’t let go. “When we get to the hospital bed,” he declared.

Illya attempt to glare at him, but he quickly lost to Napoleon’s charming smile. “_Da_,” he said in defeat, burying his face in his partner’s neck, “but why like this?”

“It’s the most comfortable hold for you, of course. You’re still injured, Illyusha. Goodbye, Mister Waverly. Sorry for disturbing you.”

“Goodbye, Mister Solo, Mister Kuryakin,” Waverly said, the first time since Napoleon entered. 

Illya gave the Englishman a nod as the American walked out, carrying the Russian over the threshold.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like my work(s), please check out  
[my Twitter](https://twitter.com/kappachyun?s=09)!


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